Free Kissing The Enemy by Helena Newbury Page B

tears in front of her friends. Jesus. Just the idea of it made me feel ill. Even though ending it was the only smart thing to do.
    I grabbed her hand, but she didn’t stop walking. Wouldn’t even look at me. “Irina,” I said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I ran out on you. I shouldn’t have done that.”
    She kept walking but she slowed just a little. Maybe something in my voice told her I meant it. “It’s...understandable,” she said at last. “Everyone’s scared of Vasiliy.”
    I stared at her in horror. She thought I was scared of him? I’m not scared of anyone. But what explanation could I give her?
    The truth, a little voice inside me urged. Tell her the truth. Tell her that you’re her uncle’s number one rival...and then watch her walk off into the sunset.
    Maybe it won’t be like that. Maybe she isn’t loyal to him. But I couldn’t risk that. This was about more than just wanting to fuck her, now. I couldn’t get her out of my head and I wasn’t about to give her up, not even if it meant lying.
    I drew in a deep breath. “I just...I know what your uncle’s like,” I said slowly. “And I couldn’t believe that someone as amazing as you was connected with someone like that.”
    I waited to see how she took it. I hoped it rang true because it was the truth.
    She slowed a little more. And then, for the first time, she turned and looked at me. God, even now, even when we were in the middle of all this, she was heartbreakingly beautiful. Those blue eyes burned with so much emotion, so much pain. It took everything I had to stop myself just grabbing her and pulling her into my arms.
    “Vasiliy has done very bad things,” she said slowly.
    Down in the depths of my soul, the hot black anger uncoiled and stirred. I knew exactly what bad things Russians were capable of. I’d had personal fucking experience. And Vasiliy was no different to the bastard who’d—
    Irina’s gorgeous voice cut me free from the memory that had threatened to drag me down into rage. “Sometimes because he had to,” she said. “But sometimes—especially in the last few years—just to grow his empire. He didn’t used to be this ruthless.”
    I forced the memories back down inside me before they could take over, but the bitterness remained. Just to grow his empire. Just another power-crazed Russian, trying to take what wasn’t his. At the same time, though, I felt a tiny shred of hope. She sounded bitter, too: maybe they weren’t close. Maybe she’d cut ties long ago. “Are you close?”
    She nodded. “After my parents died, he practically raised me.”
    Shit. My disappointment must have shown on my face because she shook her head. “But I turned my back on that,” she said with pride. “I don’t take his money. I hate everything about his business. Vasiliy wants me to marry someone like him, a gangster. I never will.”
    Oh Jesus... it got worse and worse. She hated gangsters. When she found out I was Cosa Nostra she’d never want to see me again. I have to end this now, before she finds out.
    I opened my mouth to say it.
    But nothing would come out.
    I stared at her, completely fucking helpless. Just do it! A moment’s pain. She’d cry. Then it would be over. I had to be honest with her. I’m a vicious son of a bitch, but I’m not a complete asshole.
    But I just... couldn’t. Whenever I went to speak, the thought of losing her felt like someone crushing my fucking chest.
    “What?” she asked. She finally stopped walking and turned to me. I could hear the fear in her voice—she could tell something was wrong. “What are you trying to say?” There’ll never be a better time. Do it! Tell her!
    I stared into those cornflower-blue eyes and thought of never seeing her again.
    “I need you. ” It was out before I even knew I was going to say it. “I need to keep seeing you.”
    She blinked...and then a smile spread across her face. Immediately, I got a stab of something I hadn’t felt in years: guilt.